


home to me

by biblionerd07



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Air Force, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Homesickness, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 22:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12220548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: Sam's first birthday away from home is going horribly. He's homesick, he doesn't get cake, and he has a blister. Luckily, he's got some friends who want to make the day a little sweeter.





	home to me

**Author's Note:**

> All my knowledge of military training is Army, not Air Force, so I hope I didn't get anything too wrong. Art by the awesome [lukestarkillerisgay](http://www.lukestarkillerisgay.tumblr.com)!

Sam sighs and tries to avoid putting pressure on the blister forming on his left heel. They had a long ruck earlier today, like walking down the road for six miles is training them to do anything, and no matter what he does—moleskin, different socks, tape—he keeps getting blisters. Sam joined the Air Force for a few reasons; those reasons are more related to “college money” and “James Rhodes” and “making his mother proud” than “taking long marches on the road in bad boots.”

They don’t actually road ruck much anymore now that he’s started technical training, but today’s march was punishment for some goddamn kid getting his locker configuration wrong _again_. Sam doesn’t get it—most of the guys here are the same age he is, if not older, but some of them cannot remember basic organization. He’s going to brain them all if this keeps up.

“Hey, Wilson,” his roommate, Riley, greets him. Sam grunts at him. He’s cranky. The blister is making him cranky. But he’s also cranky because it’s his birthday today, and it’s the first time in his life he doesn’t get his mom’s homemade cake. It’s his first birthday away from his family and he’s not exactly taking it well. Besides the cake issue, there’s also the homesickness factor. Sam can admit he’s an enormous mama’s boy. He’s not embarrassed by that in the least.

“Got another blister?” Riley asks sympathetically. He reminds Sam of a puppy—he’s always happy to see everyone, and he’s always getting up in your business. He’s also cute, but Sam’s doing his best not to think about _that_. He won’t be getting that college money or a handshake from James Rhodes if he thinks about that. “My mom sent me some moleskin if you need any.”

“Got some,” Sam says. “Thanks, though,” he tacks on, because he actually does like Riley. It’s hard not to, when he’s so nice. And besides, he misses his mom, so he definitely shouldn’t disregard the manners she beat into his head for his whole life.

“Some of the guys were talking about heading off base for dinner tonight,” Riley says. Before he can even extend an invitation, an SF pokes his head in their door. He doesn’t even knock, because SFs are assholes. He’s supposed to, according to the rules, but he knows no one’s going to bother reporting him.

“No one off base tonight,” he says. “Lockdown.”

Sam groans. He can’t have his mom’s cake, but he was looking forward to eating something halfway edible for his birthday. The food in the chow hall does not fit that bill. “Why?” Sam asks. They’re allowed to go off-base now, since they’re out of Phase I of their training. Usually a lockdown means something’s going on. Once they were put on lockdown for tornado warning that turned into a light sprinkling of rain. Everyone was pretty pissed about that.

“Need to know,” the SF says haughtily before heading to the next door. Sam rolls his eyes. This is definitely not making his birthday any better.

“That sucks,” Riley says. “I really wanted tacos tonight.”

“I’m sure you can find some mystery meat and pretend it’s tacos,” Sam points out. He knows the Army always talks shit about Air Force being cushy, but all the rumors he’s heard about gourmet food have been lies so far. He wishes they were getting gourmet food. Sam glances at the clock. He’s got some time before he needs to get to the chow hall.

“Want to head over now?” Riley asks.

“Nah, I gotta call my mom,” Sam says. “You can go without me.”

“I’ll wait,” Riley offers. “I’m studying anyway.”

Sam shakes his head a little. Riley’s hyperactive like a puppy, so his studying is never very effective. He ends up studying more than anyone else Sam knows, and he’s still barley scraping by in the written tests. In practicals he’s near the top, especially in PT, but they’re not graded on raw skill alone.

Sam has to wait in line for the payphones for twenty minutes before one finally opens up. He’s trying to stay patient, but this has been the worst birthday in his life. He just wants to talk to his mom and his brother and sister. But he finally gets his turn, and the line only rings four times before his mom picks up.

“Sammy?”

Sam laughs a little. “How many other people have called and you’ve thought it was me?”

“None,” Darlene says. “I have a sixth sense. Mother’s intuition.”

Sam’s throat is suddenly tight enough that he has to close his eyes. Most of the time, he can keep himself under control—think about other things, focus on class and duties and how much cooler the MTLs are the further they get through the program—so he can avoid thinking about how much he misses his family. But with his mother’s voice in his ear? He’s about to start crying like a baby.

“Happy birthday, baby,” his mom adds, which does not help him hold back the tears.

“Thanks,” he chokes out.

“Oh, Sammy,” Darlene breathes. “We do miss you. But you’re doing a good thing.”

“Uh huh.” He’s afraid to say much, because he doesn’t want anyone on the other phones to hear him blubber on the phone.

“I know your daddy would be proud.”

That’s the final nail in his coffin—Sam’s crying now. It’s his first birthday away from home, the day has sucked, he misses his family, and now his mom brings up his dad. He’s done for.

“Mom,” he says, trying to at least not openly sob. “I miss you.”

“Honey, I know,” she soothes. “Kinda hard being gone for the first time on your birthday, huh?” He can picture her face perfectly, the sympathy and some amusement written across her features as she looks at him and thinks about how grown-up he’s become. There were times he couldn’t wait to get away, but right now he desperately wants to go home.

“Are Sarah and Gideon home?” Sam asks, swiping at the tears on his cheeks. He can’t cry when he talks to his younger siblings. That’ll make Sarah cry for sure, and once she starts she won’t stop. It’ll be easier to keep it together with them. Something about having his mother on the line always makes him more emotional than talking to anyone else.

“They’re right here,” Darlene says knowingly. Her voice gets faraway for a second and Sam can see her in his head pushing the phone to her shoulder. “You guys want to talk to Sammy?”

“Yes!” Sarah yells. She’s twelve and hasn’t hit the phase where she’s too cool for enthusiasm.

“Me first!” Gideon protests. He’s fifteen and just had a growth spurt. He was about six inches taller when Sam saw him at Christmas than Sam’s ever seen him. He’s almost as tall as Sam, though Darlene thinks Sam will probably have another growth spurt.

“Happy birthday!” His younger siblings chorus into the phone.

“Do you get any cake?” Sarah asks.

“Nope, not here,” Sam says mournfully. “There might be something for dessert but it probably won’t be cake. And it _definitely_ won’t be as good as Mom’s.”

“Mom made us cake for your birthday,” Gideon reports. “We all blew out the candles together.”

And Sam’s going to cry again. The thought of his family gathered around a cake with his name on it but without him makes his throat get all choked again.

“I’m jealous,” he manages to say.

“It was really good,” Sarah says. That brings him back a little. He laughs.

“Sure, rub it in.”

He can’t talk for long—there’s a line forming behind him, and he feels bad causing a holdup for too long—so soon he’s asking them to put Darlene back on. Hopefully she won’t make him cry again. There are way more people around right now than when he started this phone call.

“Take care of yourself,” Darlene says, the same thing she always says before they hang up.

“I will,” he promises. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, Sammy. Happy birthday.”

He hangs up and takes a few deep breaths before heading back to his dorm. He’s not sure he can handle Riley’s energy right now. Sam just wants to curl up and hide under his standard-issue bedclothes that are scratchy and don’t smell at all like his sheets at home.

Riley’s not in their room. He must’ve gone down to the chow hall without Sam after all. Sam can’t pretend he isn’t a little miffed, even though he told Riley to go without him. It’s his _birthday_ , though. He doesn’t know why he’s expecting anyone to give him special treatment when he didn’t tell anyone, but still. It feels like the universe should be helping him out and making today easier just because it’s the day he was born. And Riley doesn’t usually go to the chow hall without him. And maybe Sam doesn’t _want_ Riley to go to the chow hall without him. Again, he’s ignoring that and the implications there.

Instead, he walks to the chow hall alone and his blister gets bigger with every step.

Sam can’t find Riley anywhere inside. He doesn’t even see anyone from his platoon, and he ends up eating alone. On his _birthday._ He can’t believe this. And the food is, of course, awful. It claims to be lasagna but Sam wouldn’t bet any money on it.

He’s feeling pretty forlorn when he finishes and heads back to the dorm. The door to his dorm is open, which makes him sigh internally. If the door is open, that means there are more than two people inside. Of course today is going to end with Riley inviting a bunch of people to their room. There are probably people sitting on Sam’s bed right now. Probably with their boots still on, getting his sheets dirty.

He can’t get _any_ breaks today? Worst birthday ever.

He steels himself and walks inside. Practically the entire platoon is gathered around. Sam does his best not to cringe. He wants this day to end.

“Sam!” Riley calls. “Anderson, you dipshit, you were supposed to be keeping watch!”

“Sorry!” Anderson says.

“Okay, go,” Riley commands.

“What’s going on?” Sam asks.

No one answers him. Instead, everyone starts singing happy birthday. Sam blinks. He didn’t tell anyone. He _knows_ he didn’t tell anyone. Maybe one of the MTLs squealed, since his birthday’s on all his forms. But that doesn’t seem likely.

“Happy birthday to you!” It’s not the most beautiful rendition he’s ever heard. There’s a reason none of them are in the Singing Sergeants.

“Thanks, guys,” Sam says, a little at a loss. “How’d you know?”

Riley looks sheepish. “I came to find you and I heard you talking about birthday cake. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop! But when I realized what you were saying, well, we couldn’t just let you ignore your birthday! What the hell, dude, why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t know,” Sam says with a shrug, feeling his face heat up. “Seemed weird to have to be like _hey it’s my birthday_.”

“I would’ve been a lot nicer if I knew,” one of the guys says. Sam snorts. He’s definitely lying.

“Okay, well, I know this isn’t pretty, but…” Riley steps to the side so Sam can see what he was hiding on his desk. It’s…a pile of MREs.

“Uh, thanks,” Sam says, trying not to sound ungrateful. MREs aren’t really the best birthday present he’s ever gotten.

“It’s all the dessert MREs we could get together,” Riley explains. “It’s not cake, and it’s definitely not as good as something your mom would make, but it’s the best we could do on a lockdown.”

Sam is actually incredibly touched. Dessert MREs are more valuable than gold around here, and there are at least seventeen of them piled on a pilfered plate from the chow hall. They had to have done some mad trading to get those.

“Thank you,” Sam says, blown away. “That’s…wow, guys. Thanks.”

“Hey, we’re all brothers here, right?” Anderson asks. He doesn’t have any biological brothers, so he’s always been really excited about the _band of brothers_ thing the military offers. Sam huffs a laugh, trying not to get choked up again. That would be so embarrassing.

“Thanks,” he says again. “This makes up for that ruck earlier.”

Anderson groans, because it was absolutely his fault. “I already said sorry!”

Riley puts Anderson in a headlock and gives him a noogie, which he does every time Anderson talks about brothers. He says he’s giving Anderson the real brotherly experience. They all break out the MREs and pretend they actually taste a difference in the flavors. Really, every flavor tastes like chalk, and none of them will be pooping for about a week if they eat more than one.

Still. Sam looks around the room at these guys who came together to make his birthday a little brighter, and he laughs a little, shaking his head. He’s been missing his family all day, and he’ll keep missing them, missing his mom and Sarah and Gideon. On the bright side, though: he has a family right here all around him, doing their best to give him cake and shoving each other’s faces into the packets of would-be food.

Sam’s still grinning when he meets Riley’s eye. Riley winks at him, and Sam blushes again, though it’s a little different this time. The point stands. He’s got a family here. And it’s not so bad at all.


End file.
